According to legend, in 1612, Juan De Iturbe was sailing his caravel full of pearls up the Gulf of Carolina, when a huge tidal swell washed him and his fortune into the then quickly drying lake of Cahuilla. Iturbe and his crew had to make a tough choice: stay rich and die the middle of the desert, or abandon ship and leave the bulk of the treasure behind. They went for the latter option and had to trek 316 miles through deserts and mountains.
Since then, there have been dozens of alleged sightings: In 1870, the Los Angeles Star reported that a man named Charley Clusker (not a Stan Lee creation) had found the ship near Dos Palmas. The newspaper reported on his findings and plans for a return trip ... but then, much like the mysterious ship, he simply disappeared. Perhaps he died before reaching the treasure. Or perhaps he did get it, and then died anyway from all the booze he bought.
Incidentally, a millionaire named Marley Musker suddenly popped up in New York that year.
Other people have said they saw it, including a Yuma Indian who showed up in a nearby town conspicuously loaded with pearls, but every time someone returns to collect the treasure, the ship is gone. Either the wind keeps burying it under the sand, or there's some Scooby-Doo shit going on here. Only one way to find out, adventurer!
The Dynamited Treasure of Victorio Peak (New Mexico, USA)
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In 1937, a man named Doc Noss fulfilled the potential of his awesome name when, during a deer hunting trip in the Southern Rocky Mountains, he came across a dark mine shaft containing skeletons, jewels, and other historical items, including 16,000 bars of iron.
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Which he immediately set to work molding into a flying armored suit.
It was only when his wife, Babe (obviously), insisted that he bring one of the iron bars to her that they noticed it had a golden hue -- because it was gold. Doc's reaction? "Babe ... we can call John D. Rockefeller a tramp!"
Of course, we wouldn't be talking about Doc Noss if he had simply taken out that gold without a hitch and bought a beach resort. The problem was that the entrance to the mine was very narrow, so in a move that we can only hope landed him the nickname "Dynamite Doc," Noss decided that the best way to expand it was through good old-fashioned explosions. Unsurprisingly, he accidentally closed off the mine, and perhaps even less surprisingly, he soon became "Divorced Doc."
And "Destitute Doc," and probably "Drunky Doc."
Noss became "Dead Doc" when a business partner shot him to death over a dispute about the gold, but his family, along with countless others, continued searching for the treasure. Another problem: In the '50s, the area, known as Victorio Peak, was closed to the public because the Army started doing dangerous nuclear tests there ... which naturally didn't stop the Army itself from performing a top-secret search after soldiers claimed they found the booty. When this became public and the Noss family protested, the Army claimed they found nothing.
No one's sure if the Army took the gold, or who put it there in the first place (probably those absent-minded Spaniards), or if it even existed, but the $1.2 billion estimated value is enough to keep people coming back to molest this tiny shaft hoping something valuable will come out. If you find it, it might be a little too late to call John Rockefeller a tramp, but we're sure you can think of something appropriate to call Donald Trump.